A Thousand Ways to Die Trying
by TheVillainofTheStory
Summary: The Boy Who Just Can't Leave Well Enough Alone, in Severus' opinion, would be the death of him. Harry's years at Hogwarts through Snape's cynical, overprotective eyes. Mentor Snape turns into Snarry eventually. Slightly OOC Harry. Humorous, trust me.
1. This is My Reaction to Everything I Fear

This has been swimming around in my head for a while (like, since I read the fifth book seven years ago). There will be seven chapters and an epilogue, one for each book. Mostly canon, all from Snape's POV. This is an eventual SNARRY (SeverusxHarry), but there shall be no hanky-panky before Harry turns 17. Pedophilia, while a respected plot device in some circumstances, has no place in this story.

I have tweaked a few things of course to make this Snarry, so it can't all be canon. But if I did screw anything up royally, please don't hesitate to tell me _**POLITELY**_. I've misplaced my copies of SS and CoS, so I don't have them handy to refer back to. For once, I have almost all of this story written. I'll post the rest of the story before the end of September. That gives you all something to look forward to and me a deadline, though I make no promises due to an impending hurricane that's going to shut the power off here at my college in about and hour.

One last thing: the title. If anyone out there is a fan of my work (if you are, thanks for the support), they hopefully know that I typically take my titles from song lyrics or things my mother says. This title I dedicate to a Quizilla author I knew as mushroomoon. She had a story by the same title (it was an HP SiriusxOC fic) that her father forced her to remove for some reason or another. It was also the first fanfic I had ever read. Her story being removed was the reason I was inspired to write. Though she never knew that I existed, or what an impact her plight had on me, I'm still proud to dedicate this to her, or rather what she represented to me.

Year One:  
>This is My Reaction to Everything I Fear<p>

-  
>Severus could not believe his misfortune. No, scratch that. He could believe it; that didn't stop him from feeling extraordinarily angry and horribly inconvenienced. Anything involving that little cretin Potter was bound to end in disaster. Thanks to Severus, the boy had escaped with his life. This time.<p>

Sitting on the edge of an adjacent bed in Madam Pomfrey's domain, Severus Snape thought back over the year, wondering how he had managed to get himself into such a predicament.

It all began, Severus mused, that fateful night. The Sorting Ceremony had been filled with the usual rabble of first years, all of whom were absolutely terrified. It warmed the potion master's heart to see such fear in the small children. There had been the usual lot, of course; another Weasley, a few _proper_ pure bloods, and crying muggle-borns. As the list went on, the only name of note in Severus's opinion was Draco Malfoy, his godson.

"Potter, Harry." McGonagall's normally controlled, measured tone faltered. The entire hall fell silent for a brief moment. The Boy Who Lived, their savior, was among them. Predictably, the whispering erupted like a wave crashing, flowing slowly then ebbing before rising again like the hissing of a great snake. For his part, Severus was stunned, intrigued, and swamped with a hatred he had not felt in years.

The boy scampered up onto the stool, pulling the Sorting Hat down over his head and eyes. It was almost like he was trying to hide; Severus knew better than to assume that. The boy was the spitting image of his father. Inky black hair in constant disarray, obnoxious round glasses that no one should be able to pull off that well, and a face built to smirk in triumph. There was no doubt in Severus's mind where the little brat would be sorted into. He wondered what was taking the Hat so long; the boy could only fit in one House.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat seemed rather proud of the announcement, which was ridiculous. Severus could have sorted this particular student. Of course, the Gryffindors cheered as though Christmas had come early, exams were cancelled, and the Dark Lord had fallen again. It was a bit too much, in the potion master's opinion, but Gryffindors were always too exuberant. They were always too **everything**, come to think of it.

James Potter's image traipsed over to the red and gold house, sitting down amongst a clan of red-headed muggle lovers. When he turned to watch the rest of the sorting, Severus's breath caught for the second time in the span of five minutes. His eyes. Peridot, jade, myrtle, mint, viridian, celadon, harlequin, _emerald_. Just like his mother's, the precious Lily Evans. Those haunting forest colored eyes stared up at him, piercing him like a spear through the heart and a fissure of ice through the mind. _His mother's eyes in his father's face. My personal hell, embodied as a first year,_ Snape thought as he fought to beat down a hysteric giggle. That would be most out of character and draw unwanted attention.

As Severus looked upon the boy, drinking in his visage, Potter reached a hand up to rub his forehead. It was as though the hellion had felt a bolt of pain run through his head. As though he was rising from a deep pool, Severus found himself aware of his surroundings once more. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his attention to his dinner. There would be seven long years to study the Potter boy, though he was not sure if that was a comforting thought.

-  
>Harry Potter, Severus concluded as he lounged in his quarters with a glass of whiskey, was not only arrogant, he was a disappointment. If his father had seen how poorly his spawn had reacted to Severus's verbal attacks, he would have been disowned. Lily's disappointment would have sprung from the boy not knowing the answer to Severus's questions. Both of his parents, Severus acknowledged begrudgingly, had been absolutely brilliant. Harry Potter, on the other hand, was intellectually lackluster. Some deep part of the potion master had been hoping for a bit more of a reaction, something more like Potter the elder and deader; as teacher, Severus was assured victory over his tiny enemy. Unfortunately, the brat had not put up a fight. All he could do was glare and hope Severus would switch his attention away to the Longbottom child, who had proven himself worse at Potions than Potter.<p>

Having those green eyes glare at him was disconcerting, though Severus would never admit it even under Veritaserum. Lily used to glare at him like that, near the end of their acquaintance. It was a look that made Snape want to beg and plead for forgiveness, to grovel and become so subservient and pathetic that the wielder of those emerald orbs would deign to take mercy on him. That was a dangerous power for a first year to exert over anyone, let alone above the foreboding potions master who presided over the castle dungeons. Severus never wanted Potter to realize this power; it would be the end of him. Severus Snape was nothing if not self preserving.

-  
>"That damn boy!" Severus exploded as he paced back and forth through the Headmaster's office. The veins in his forehead stuck out like a raised mountain ridge against his pale, sallow skin. It was a rare sight to see the reserved potion master so out of control, though Dumbledore had grown used to it over the years. "Reckless, arrogant, self-destructive-just like his bastard father!"<p>

"Now Severus," the old man admonished lightly, that damn twinkle in his eye almost forcing Severus's magic to start smashing things uncontrollably. "I did not realize how deeply you cared for the lad. Why did you not tell me sooner?"

"Care? Albus, have you finally lost all of your marbles?" Snape demanded incredulously. The man was missing the point entirely. "I loathe that pretentious Gryffindor Golden Boy with every fiber of my being not already owned by you and the Dark Lord."

"But you loved his mother so well," the old man mused, turning to stroke his phoenix. Fawkes had never taken a liking to Severus. He had assumed that it was because he was not Gryffindor. The greatest of all birds cooed as his master petted him, but kept one wary eye on Severus at all times. "I had hoped you would find it in you to love her child as well. A surrogate father, if you will. The muggle relatives who raised him are a bit…well, rather like your own, Severus. Harry needs a strong, male, parental wizard in his life. You would help him so much."

The ploy was a common one that Dumbledore employed with Severus. Playing on his adoration of Lily to manipulate him into obedience. Thankfully, the tactic seldom worked any more. Severus was not the same scared twenty some year old running from a power he did not understand right into the arms of another for the price of his love's life.

"I promised to keep Lily's child safe," Severus ground out unwillingly. "I will not associate with the parts of him that are so like his father."

"James?" Dumbledore chuckled, once more missing Severus's main point. The potion master flinched at the name, a long ingrained habit that he doubted he would ever break. "I never understood you two's school boy hatred. It was immediate, if I recall. According to the other teachers, Harry is as much like one as the other. He's as loyal, brave, and quick as his father while being as polite, gracious, and understanding as his mother. Even if he does have James's reckless streak. I think you'd like him, Severus, if you gave him a chance."

"That does not excuse the fact that he and his cronies took on a fully grown mountain troll in the girl's lavatory on their own. See? He has a pack of loyal followers already, just like Potter." At least J Potter had an equal; Sirius Black completed Potter in a way that made Snape's mouth sour with jealousy. They were the perfect friends and they had the perfect cheerleaders. Weasley resembled Pettigrew, while Granger was very much the Lupin of the group, smart, cautious, and reserved. The boy had no one he acknowledged to keep him in check; they followed him blindly, and he would lead them to death.

"They defeated the troll, did they not?" Albus retorted enigmatically. "Do not worry about Harry, Severus. He is quite capable of protecting himself."

How a first year was supposed to be skilled enough to do that, Severus wasn't sure. All he knew was that if Potter got himself killed, Lily would never forgive him.

-  
>Potter, Severus seethed, had the worst timing in the world. <em>Another familial trait,<em> he thought darkly as he swept dramatically down the halls of the dungeon to his private quarters. Harry Potter, The Brat Who Lived, jogged behind him in an attempt to keep up with his irate teacher.

All Severus had wanted was to have his leg bandaged. Going to Poppy would have required an explanation that he wasn't willing to give, and he brewed all over her concoctions anyway. Having Argus wrap his leg the muggle way and slathering some unguent on it later would suffice. Of course, until Harry Bloody Potter decided that he wanted his book back.

The boy deserved an explanation, if only a brief one. It would prevent him from doing something stupid and Severus wouldn't have to save him. It had been bad enough with the broom incident, and he had resolutely ignored the way his heart leapt to his throat. It would give him premature gray hair, early heart failure, and an attachment to a boy he hated. No, telling him the truth was best.

Severus opened the door and herded Harry inside. The door closed with a click as the lock snapped into place. "Sit, Potter," he ordered crisply as he gestured to one of the green armchairs that sat before the fire.

The brat stared at him warily for several moments, his distrustful _wondrous_ eyes flashing before he slowly made his way to a chair. Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes; out of everyone in the world, Severus was really the one to intend the boy the least amount of bodily harm. No matter how much looking at his face enraged the potion master.

"What happened to your leg, Professor?" the boy asked quietly. His timid voice shook and he refused to look his teacher in the eye, preferring to stare at the fire. Perhaps that was for the best, though.

Snape raised a derisive eyebrow. "It was mauled, Potter," he drawled, "I would think that even you with your poor observational skills would have noticed that."

That tone got a reaction. Perhaps Potter was more tired than he looked, because Severus hadn't been able to get such a rise out of him before. "What have I ever done to you?" the boy cried indignantly. The emeralds held Snape's gaze like a bird under the spell of a snake; he could not look away, nor did he want to. They pulled him in and held him on a string tether. Potter could have asked anything of him at that moment and Severus would have done it willingly. Then the boy shook his head, the outburst dissipating before it even had time to fully form. "Did Fluffy get a hold of you, sir?" he tried again, forcing himself to be polite.

"How do you know about Hagrid's damn dog?" Snape demanded before he could stop himself. Potter held silent, thankfully, as Severus collected himself. There was no reason for a child to hold such sway over his emotions. It had taken the potion master years to carefully seal himself away deep within the confines of his soul where no amount of legilimency could find it; his long years of toil was not going to be shattered by a scrawny boy with unruly hair and wide green eyes.

"Professor?" Potter asked. This time there was no fear; Severus was surprised to hear a bit of concern in the young, innocent voice. With his eyes closed, of course, he couldn't see the boy's face to make sure. "Are you feeling quite well?"

Snape snapped his eyes open, fighting down a chuckle. That would most certainly be taken the wrong way. "I have just been attacked by a three headed canine, Mr. Potter," he pointed out with an almost vicious smile. "Of course I am not well. How do you know about Hagrid's pet?" Severus refused to say 'Fluffy" because it was simply too demeaning for the beast. Not to mention it was not a word that belonged in his mouth.

"Hagrid mentioned him sir," Potter replied promptly. His huge emerald eyes stared up into Severus's black ones, and the potions master almost believed him. Hagrid was dense enough to talk loosely about such things with his favorite Gryffindor. Potter was not an accomplished enough liar to rouse Severus's suspicions. And yet… it didn't hurt to be absolutely sure.

"You've gone to the third floor corridor, haven't you, Potter?" Snape questioned softly. It was his detention voice. The threatening 'I know what you've done, and you know what's going to happen now' tone had sent more than one student screaming out of his classroom in this year alone. A flicker of something sprung up in Potter's eyes, something Severus had thought to never see in the brat. Intelligence, cunning, and recognition.

In that moment, Severus realized three things that forced him to reevaluate the slight boy before him. Harry Potter was smarter than he had let Severus notice. Harry Potter knew what he was doing, and intended to keep Severus in the dark about it. And Harry Potter knew that Snape knew these things. All of this combined to impose a radical thought: _Harry Potter might have flourished in Slytherin._

"I think that you should go see Madam Pomfrey, Professor," the boy insisted. The stirring in the boys eyes had settled as though it had never happened.

"Listen to me," Severus implored desperately, though his tone was as distantly cold as ever. All he could do was hope that his eyes conveyed the message. "You mustn't go down there. It doesn't matter how badly you think you need to protect it. You will die, Potter. If you think that someone is trying to take it please tell me immediately. There is nothing you can do."

"I'm still not quite sure what you're talking about, sir," he admitted in an (had it been in anyone else's hearing) adorably confused tone. The emotion in his voice did not match the one in his eyes, though. _He's going to have to learn to do that better if he hopes to confuse me,_ Severus thought absently. "But I'm sure you're wrong," he added defiantly.

"Get to bed, Potter. And don't let me catch you out past curfew ever again," Severus ordered with disgust. This was the thanks he got for attempting to save and arrogant and self centered Gryffindor who hated him.

As the door slammed closed, Severus flopped onto his sofa gracelessly. Even potions masters deserved a moment of unrestrained frustration to be less than proper. Pouring himself a glass of whiskey, Severus noticed that the bottle was almost empty. Again.

"Lily, you damn son is turning me into an alcoholic," he griped, downing the liqueur.

-  
>The dust was finally clearing. Severus was glad; that meant he could see the rubble from his blasting and not trip and kill himself like an idiot. <em>Or like Potter,<em> he thought viciously as he blasted through what was left of Minerva's chess board. He would have liked to test himself against the challenges, but unfortunately the only thing he had time for was an overwhelming full frontal assault. Throwing magic around in such a manner was dangerous, but Severus had no choice.

Only a few minutes earlier, Miss Granger had come barreling down the hall, screaming at the top of her lungs, "PROFESSOR MCGONNAGAL! PROFFESORE DUMBLEDORE! HURRY!"

Severus was, unfortunately the first teacher she encountered. It took much more persuasion than he had expected for her to explain what was going on. As soon as the muggle born had finished her brief tale, Severus took off at a run for the third floor corridor on the right hand side. Potter was in trouble.

Minerva and Dumbledore were right behind him; they would take care of the unconscious Weasley occupying a corner of the chessboard, white sword thrown before him in acknowledged victory. Severus's heart fluttered madly in his chest. A terror that he had not felt in many long, long years gripped him and overpowered some of his common sense. Harry Potter, the son of the love of his life, was most likely dead in the next hall.

Severus didn't waste time attempting to rationalize the fear; there was no time to assure himself that he only cared for Lily's sake and Dumbledore's promise. Potter was _his_ student, _his _responsibility, and no incompetent Defense Against the Dark Arts hack of a teacher was going to tear the boy away from him. Even if Voldemort **was** on the back of Quirrel's head.

Breezing past his own challenge without a thought, Severus entered the great chamber where Dumbledore had finally moved the Mirror of Erised to. The room bore signs of a great battle. The walls and pillars were demolished and the great hunks of stone that composed them were strewn about the floor. Several torches had fallen and dripped oil, causing tongues of flame to race around the room. In front of the mirror, in the middle of all the chaos, lay Harry Potter.

By his side in an instant, Severus began a brief but thorough examination of the body. So sweet was the relief that flooded through Severus he almost let a groan of relief slip out. The boy, that damn boy, was alive. In his left hand was the Philosopher's Stone and in his right the holly wand was clasped loosely.

"Potter," Severus murmured, scooping his unconscious student up into his arms as gently as he could. "The Boy Who Has Some How Managed to Cheat Death Again."

"Severus," Dumbledore greeted cordially as he entered the room. The old man was completely unfazed by the sight before him, causing a wave of something stronger than irritation to well up in the potion master. "See that Harry is taken to Poppy. Leave the Stone and Mirror to me."

As he turned to hand the Stone to Dumbledore, Severus caught sight of his reflection in the Mirror of Erised. All he saw was a tall, bird like man holding a small boy in his arms protectively. The only difference was that the Mirror Potter had to injuries; the real Potter groaned in discomfort and bled from several minor cuts. The left side of his face, the side closest to Severus, was one big purple bruise.

Forgetting that the Headmaster was in the room, Severus gently wiped a bit of dirt away from Harry's face. Turning on his heel, Snape carried his least favorite student out of the bowels of the Third Floor Corridor.

-  
>Now, sitting on the edge of an infirmary bed in the Hospital Wing, Severus glared down at the sleeping Potter. If Potter had just <em>listened<em> to him…

Perhaps Harry had sensed the disapproving stare of his teacher, because he chose that moment to open his brilliant green eyes. "Hm?" he questioned wordlessly. His voice was thick from disuse and his eyes were clouded over in sleep. "Who's there?"

"What are you blathering about, Potter?" Snape demanded, because there was really nothing else he could do. Had the ordeal messed with the child's brain? That was probable, now that Severus decided to entertain the notion. He had been blinded by worry before and unable to think of anything but Harry waking again. There had been no thought or concern spared for what would happen once the Boy Who Just Wouldn't Die was awake.

"Professor Snape?" Harry asked cautiously. Severus nodded. "I should have known. No one else wears that much black," he muttered, earning another glare from the potions master. Obviously the boy was delirious if he thought he could speak to Severus that way. "Could you hand me my glasses?"

"Your what?" Snape asked stupidly before he could process the request. Potter wore glasses. How could he have forgotten? With all the time he spent staring (covertly) at those emerald orbs, Severus had never once noticed the thin layer of glass between him and the green objects of his fascination. Grabbing the offending spectacles from the table near Potter's bed, Severus stood to hand them to the boy. "Here."

"Thank you," Harry murmured as he slipped the glasses on. Blinking a few times to focus his eyesight, Harry looked up into Severus's unreadable obsidian orbs. "What are you doing here, sir?"

It was the subtle emphasis on the word 'you' and the belated addition of 'sir' that caused Severus to narrow his eyes at Potter. "Making sure that my hard work has not gone to waste," he snapped.

Harry raised his eyebrows in silent shock. "You brought me out of the Mirror room, Professor?" he asked incredulously. "Why?"

"It's my job to see that stupid students to not injure themselves on their own ignorance," he retorted gratefully. Potter was awake and fighting him; everything would be just fine.

"Meaning you wanted to gloat and say 'I told you so'."

_How astute._ "I did warn you, Potter," Severus pointed out smugly. It hurt, for some unfathomable reason, that Harry didn't follow his orders. It also gave him great satisfaction to be right, so he supposed the feelings negated each other. "But since you insist: I told you so."

Harry nodded silently, staring at the pattern woven into his blanket for a few moments. "Sir?" he began innocently. Snape's guard was immediately up. "I hate being the one to tell you this, but you were wrong."

Snape's shock was so great that his eyebrows flew up to make an acquaintance with his hairline. "What?" he asked in the tone he usually reserved for making sixth years cry.

"I'm not dead," Harry pointed out cheekily. "And I did do something. Voldemort didn't get the Stone, sir."

Silence settled between the two raven haired males like a thick, suffocating blanket. Severus was beyond furious, yet some insane part of his mind was chuckling, impressed with the boy's temerity.

A knock at the infirmary door severed the tension between student and teacher. "That is undoubtedly Dumbledore," Severus informed the brat who lay still grinning at him. "I think I will leave before he gets any notion in his head that I care for your well being."

"You wouldn't have stayed by my side for this long if you didn't care, Professor," Harry pointed out shrewdly. The Slytherin aspect of Potter had reared its head again.

"Don't make me do something regrettable, Potter," Severus threatened darkly as he swept out of the wing. The potions master didn't deign to acknowledge the chuckle that graced his ears from behind.

_That brat will be the death of me._

_-  
>Reviews are nice. Just sayin'. Also, if you have any questions about why I didn't include something (like the Quidditch incident), just ask. Or if you want to make sure I don't cut something you think is important in future chapters, tell me and I'll try to include it.<br>_


	2. Closer Than It Is Too Far

Here we are again!  
>I got a great response from the first chapter (thanks to everyone who read it), which I didn't honestly expect. You all rose above my expectations, and I thank you for it.<p>

Chapter 2 has some moments of Snape being OOC; I was going for the dichotomy of him hating Harry in context but as soon as they were in an unfamiliar situation his treatment and thoughts differed. I'm not sure I succeeded, but it was what I was going for.

Year 2:  
>Closer Than It Is Too Far<p>

Severus was not sure how he had managed to end another school year once more on an infirmary bed watching the sleeping Harry Potter. At least this year the boy didn't require urgent medical care. Phoenix tears were a cure all, not that Potter had enough knowledge of the wizarding world to know that. Poppy had insisted on keeping the boy over night for observation and Severus had not objected. The boy was far too reckless. No second year, Severus included, should have been able to defeat a basilisk.

Sighing, Severus reached out to take the boy's glasses off his peaceful face. How had Harry managed to get himself into such a mess this time…

-  
>The crash could be heard throughout the grounds. Nothing in the world sounded like a flying Ford Angela making a hasty and ill-timed landing into the Whomping Willow. As the horrible screeching of rending metal and breaking wood reached his ears, Severus quickened his pace and lengthened his stride. If Potter was dead, Severus would kill him. If Potter was alive, he would be wishing he wasn't.<p>

"I wonder where Snape is?" Harry murmured as the potion master in question rounded one of the castle's corners. The two imbeciles were on their tiptoes, straining to watch the Sorting Ceremony. A slight frown graced the child's face as he looked along the head table once more. It was, Severus was pleasantly surprised to note, a calculating and speculative look rather than the vapid and adrenaline filled expression of his companion. The intelligence Potter was showing almost made Severus overlook the fact that he had not received the title of 'professor'; instead he found his name being thrown about in an unceremoniously impudent fashion.

"Maybe, if we're really _**really **_lucky," the Weasley boy began, hope shining out of his eyes like a lantern, "He died."

Immediately Harry's expression lost any trace of the intelligence it had harbored for those brief moments. "Wouldn't that be nice," he chuckled. It hurt Severus, in an odd, sharp way to be spoken of like that by Harry. Having spent the last year doing everything in his power to keep the Boy Who Lived safe, he had expected some sort of…recognition, he supposed. The thought was absurd, so much so that he did not think it worthy of him, so the potion master shoved the feelings aside to concentrate on the boys before him. "Really though," Harry continued as he scanned the Great Hall. "Where is he?"

_Three guesses,_ Severus thought dryly as he clamped a hand on each boys' shoulder. Weasley screamed as he jerked around wildly in shock. Harry merely hung his head, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'knew it was too good to be true', and turned to face his punishment like a good little Gryffindor.

Severus escorted the boys to his office at a brisk trot. They jogged behind him in complete silence like prisoners being led to the gallows. The boys had to understand that this situation was not going to be turned into some great Gryffindor tale of bravery and adventure that they would be telling around the common room fireplace. One particular dark haired boy needed to understand that his life was more valuable than all of the gold in the Malfoy fortune; Severus was not going to allow the stupid impulses of a base Weasley to weigh the Potter brat down until they were both six feet under. Gryffindor's Golden Boy needed to know that Severus would be watching him closely because his fate was directly tied to the Potion Master's redemption. Not that he would ever tell the brat that directly, of course. The hatred was still as strong as ever.

"Sit," he ordered curtly as he slid into his own chair behind the desk. Severus had chosen his own office to berate the boys in because it was perhaps the most terrifying room a second-year could ever enter. The shelves were stacked with archaic boxes, earthen jugs covered in nasty stains, beakers and vials brimming with unpleasant and viscous liquids, tomes bound in decrepit leather, and several skeletons. The slime on the walls and green glow of the fire cast the room in an eerie, unfriendly atmosphere. Not to mention that Severus had chosen Slytherin colors for the rug and chairs. Yes, the Gryffindor boys were most certainly terrified.

"Please Professor!" the Weasley boy wailed as he slumped in his chair. Severus quirked an eyebrow up in amusement; the boy thought he could plead with the potions master. "We didn't mean to crash into the Whomping Willow! The barrier-"

"Silence." That one, cold word shut the ginger up with a yip of fright. "You have broken over a dozen school rules this evening, not to mention Wizarding Law. You were seen," Severus explained, dramatically slamming down a copy of the Daily Prophet, "by no less than seven muggles. Not to mention the damage you've caused to a Whomping Willow that has been on the grounds since before you were born.

"I assure you that were you in my House and your fate up to me, the two of you insolent delinquents would be on the train back home tonight!"

The Weasley boy looked close to fainting from sheer terror. Severus suppressed a chuckle; he still had it after all these years. He glanced at Potter, hoping to see the same look of fright upon the boy's horribly familiar face. Unfortunately, Potter the Intelligent had decided to rear his intriguing yet vexing head again. Cool, calm, and _amused_ green eyes stared up at the potions master, almost causing Severus to take a step back. Standing his ground, Severus demanded, "What do you have to say for yourself, Potter? And please, try to be more articulate than Weasley."

"The barrier at Platform 9 ¾ wouldn't let us through," the insufferable boy began calmly. He settled back against the green chair and folded his hands in contentment, as though he was trying to prove his potions master wrong about the level of comfort he felt in the room. "We weren't sure if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be able to get back out, seeing as we couldn't get in. Ron had the brilliant idea to get in the car and fly to Hogwarts. It wasn't particularly difficult, because we followed the train the entire way.

"The landing was a bit rough, but I think the tree did more damage to us than we did to it," Harry concluded. "I think that we did the best we could with what we knew. Really Professor, you can't expel us for not knowing what to do."

"No, but we can most certainly give you detention," a kindly old voice joked from the doorway. Severus looked up to see Minerva and Albus standing just outside his office, one looking bemused and the other irate. _I sincerely hope that her anger is not directed at me. _The spy's heart immediately plummeted to the floor; Potter would go free and not learn a damn thing, leaving Severus once more to have to stand under the boy with a net and hope to catch him before he did something else undeniably stupid. If Dumbledore really wanted him to keep the brat safe, perhaps he should give the potions master more of a say in the boy's life. "Minerva?"

"Detention, for the both of you," the transfiguration teacher declared tersely. Her face was drawn in like she had lemon juice in her eyes. It took several moments, but Severus finally realized that Minerva McGonagall was _concerned _for the two boys. Renowned throughout the school as a harsh taskmaster and completely impartial, McGonagall seemed to have a soft spot for the two rowdy boys. "Come along now. After some dinner, you two are going straight to the Tower. And be thankful that I don't lock you two in it!"

Weasley looked weak with relief. Hopping out of his chair, the ginger traipsed clumsily over to his waiting 'saviors'. Potter also slid off of his perch, following much more lightly in step than his klutzy companion. Not that the boy was graceful, but he at least had a Seeker's attunement to the movements of his own body.

Snape turned to glare moodily off into space. If pressed to describe his feelings at the moment, the word that sprang most easily to mind was 'vexed'. Albus and Minerva seemed not to understand that Harry could have **died **in that stupid stunt; though that wasn't surprising seeing as the other two adults were both Gryffindors. There were almost a hundred things the boy could have done rather than flying an illegally modified muggle car across Great Britain. That blasted snowy owl was there; they should have used her to send a message to  
>Dumbledore or himself.<p>

That thought brought Severus up short. How he had forgotten, the Head of Slytherin was unsure, but the fact remained: Harry Potter hated and distrusted him. The hatred was fine, and completely mutual, he assured himself. It was the blasted distrust that hurt so badly. The brat would not have thought to ask him for help or advise because Potter assumed that Severus was attempting to inflict physical harm upon his person. More was the pity for Severus; not only would it have been easier to keep Lily's son safe if there was a bit of trust between them, but there would have been ample opportunity for the cultivation of those wonderfully Slytherin traits that Potter kept displaying. Perhaps Severus had been the only one to notice them…

"Professor?" Snape's head snapped up as he was jerked from his reverie by the very boy that had so consumed his thoughts.

"What is it, Mr. Potter?" he inquired briskly, moving to make it seem he was in the midst of something important. If the Slytherin green eyes saw through what he was doing, Severus consciously ignored that knowledge.

"Well, something you said was bothering me," the boy admitted as he rocked back and forth on his heels. It wasn't an uncomfortable motion. Severus had only heard this innocent tone once before, in the infirmary at the end of the previous year while Potter lay injured on a cot. This voice signaled that Potter was about to say something disgustingly cheeky yet undeniably true. Eyes narrowed in caution, Severus motioned for the boy to continue. "You had said that if Ron and I were in Slytherin, you'd have us expelled. Professor, you and I both know that's not true. You'd have bent over backwards to keep your precious Slytherins' punishment to a minimum."

It took quite a bit of willpower to stop himself from either smashing beakers or laughing as Potter slipped out the door with what was rapidly becoming a trademark victory grin.

-  
>Minerva had thought it best that Potter serve his detention with Severus, explaining that she had various Gryffindor things (that she listed but the potions master really didn't care about) to attend to. Argus had agreed to take the Weasley boy; Severus assumed that the squib was punishing the youngest boy of the Weasley clan for the transgressions of his older twin brothers. It was an acceptable arrangement all in all, and Severus found himself sitting behind his classroom desk grading papers while Potter scrubbed out several cauldrons.<p>

Potter the younger, Severus mused, was indeed different than Potter the elder. While the dead father preferred ganging up on Severus and physically beating him into submission, the Brat Who Scrubbed Cauldrons always confronted Severus alone, and with the potion master's own words. Harry was tactful while the other was abrasive. Both achieved the same outcome (Severus always felt the need to murder something when they were done with him), but at least Harry's actions caused an uncharacteristic bout of laughter. Of course, both of them were arrogant and self centered. The boy hadn't changed in Severus's esteem _**that **_much.

"Professor?" Potter questioned quietly from his spot on the floor. Severus didn't bother to acknowledge him so like any Gryffindor, he plowed on ahead. "May I ask you something?"

"No," Severus replied calmly, marking another failing grade onto Longbottom's paper. The poor child had an impressive understanding of plants for a second year, but unfortunately that did not translate into any sort of potions skill.

"I'm just curious about something," he persisted, completely ignoring Severus's refusal. With a sigh, Snape shoved the pile of essays away in disgust. The papers were filled with the usual drivel. None of his students had decided to rise above his lowest expectations: Longbottom was failing, Granger was a presumptuous know it all, Weasley had finished his paper at breakfast (apparently forgetting that his professors were in the room), and Draco had written quite a bit without really saying anything (a skill he had undoubtedly learned from Lucius). Perhaps Potter would provide a welcome distraction. _Or infuriate me,_ Severus added as an afterthought. _Either way, he does seem to provide ample material for contemplation._

"What could possibly be more important than scrubbing cauldrons, Potter?" the potions master asked crisply. If the boy was in one of his rare intelligent phases, he would recognize the invitation to speak. If not, the cauldrons would be cleaned a trifle bit quicker as he misinterpreted the question as an incentive to work faster. The joys of being a Slytherin were many in number.

Continuing to scrub, Potter asked neutrally, "Is there any specific reason that you hate me?"

Specific reason? Severus leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Truthfully, he had separated his hatred of the boy into three distinctly different genres: his parents, his incompetence, and Dumbledore. Obviously the potion master had too much time on his hands if he could ponder an irrational emotion like hatred for a long enough period to categorize it, but that was not the point at the moment.

James Potter, along with his willing cronies, had made Severus's life into a hellish flurry of skirmishes, pranks, humiliation, and a near death experience that still left him chilled to the bone when he thought about it. There had been days when it was impossible for him to leave the Slytherin dormitories because his fear was so great. When he did manage to creep out of his sanctum, the younger Severus spent his time looking over his shoulder and flinching as he rounded corners. Fourth year in particular had been marked by a perpetual twitch, while during his sixth year Severus had developed a lisp. At other times he had welcomed the chance to best his rival. Those victories were few and far between and never seemed to outweigh the pain and terror of James Potter's mere presence. By the end of seventh year, the hand of apology that James had offered him (no doubt and Lily's bidding) had come too late. The other boy's actions had sent Severus running straight into the arms of a man he thought would give him the power he sought; all he had wanted was to not be afraid, and to have the precious Lily Evans. James Potter had destroyed both of those dreams without even breaking a sweat. He was all Severus had ever wanted to be, and everything Severus feared.

Lily, on the other hand, had been Severus's only true friend. Confidant, friend, crush, and so, so much more. When others would have offered a sharp word, she graced him with a smile. Her beautiful, emerald green eyes had enraptured him since they were six years old, though it had taken him years to work up the courage to speak with her; in Severus' mind, she was too pure, too kind, and too beautiful to want to associate with the lowly Snape boy from Spinner's End. But Lily hand extended a hand of joyful friendship towards him, and for years they were inseparable, House rivalry be damned. For some unfathomable reason, Lily actually liked Severus. Lily Evans had been his entire world; her smile was why he awoke in the morning, her laughter was why he tolerated her Gryffindor friends, her tears brought out the caring side of him that his father had failed to beat out completely. The hug, based purely in friendship, which she bestowed upon him every evening that they parted chased away his nightmares. And then he lost her because of that one stupid, horrible, untrue word. To the day, he had never said the word again and even went so far as to severely punish any student unwise and ignorant enough to utter it in his presence. The most brilliant witch of her age, funny and kind, gently yet unyielding, had unwittingly captured Severus's heart. Lily had died with his heart as well, shattered though it was at her choosing James Potter.

Yes, Severus hated Potter because of his parents. The father who had tormented him and the mother whom he had lost. Both were alive in the child, and Severus could not help but to resent him for both parts.

The small bit if dislike that Severus held towards the boy based on his own merit was, in reality, a bit unfair. Harry was only a second year. More importantly he was a second year who had not known about anything relating to magic until Hagrid had shown up on the island where his relatives had tried to hide him. Severus had heard the story, at Albus' insistence, directly from the half-breed himself. There was no way that Harry could be expected to thrive in an environment he was still attempting to believe in; Severus had noticed the covert, wondering looks that the brat's face held as he gazed adoringly around the castle. Severus had felt much the same when he first realized that Hogwarts was his true home. The kinder, accepting, almost gentle part of the potion master's mind that was typically reserved for Lily implored him to be soft toward the boy, that he was lost but free for the first time in his life and needed guidance.

Of course, Severus's rational yet cynical side reigned supreme. The Potter brat had never had a day of discomfort in his life. Hogwarts was a chance to gather a horde of fans and be paraded about like a hero or king before his plebeians.

Another facet of Potter's deplorable arsenal of personality quirks were the Slytherin tendencies that he insisted on hiding. Potter was, unfortunately, much more intelligent than he displayed. Severus had a suspicion that he was the only one who knew just how deeply these traits ran. Even then he was not entirely sure of the true extent of the boy's prowess. He had proven himself equal to tasks far beyond those of his age. Yet he was willing to take less than stellar grades that obviously did not reflect his understanding of the material. That was a deplorable aspect of the boy, in Severus's esteem; Harry was brilliant and refused to show it.

Dumbledore's role in this mutual disregard between the two dark haired males was simple: it was entirely his fault that Severus had to put up with the boy to begin with. There was a score of other things that Albus could have asked of Severus in return for 'saving' him from the Dark Lord. Instead, the cracked old man insisted that Severus protect the boy from himself and every other danger the magical world could throw at the brat. Yes, Albus inspired a unique hatred of the boy, fueled by Severus' own disdain of being told what to do.

But how to explain that to a second year boy, eagerly awaiting the verdict from his grouchy potions professor as he scrubbed elbows deep in a grimy cauldron?

"No, no particular reason, Potter," Severus lied lightly. Turning back to his paper work, the man let an uncharacteristic smile slip through. "Now scrub harder."

-  
>Gilderoy Lockhart was perhaps the most incompetent baboon to ever walk through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The dueling club that the ponce was attempting to teach was a complete and utter farce that Severus had no desire to be associated with. Severus was not the Dark Lord's dueling champion because he knew how to grovel; the thought that ignoramus Lockhart would be able to do him any harm was laughable, had the potion master been in a more jovial mood. As it was, a bit of a dark cloud had settled around him, informing all students in the room of his obvious displeasure. Lockhart was, of course, oblivious.<p>

"Potter, Weasley!" Lockhart called down from the platform gaily. "Come up here and let's see what you can do."

Severus raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Had the man not allowed wands in his classroom or some such nonsense? Even in potions, a class that did not require wands of those under sixth year, Severus had seen the destruction wrought by Weasley's wayward wand. "Weasley's wand causes catastrophe with even the simplest spell. We will be escorting Potter to the Hospital Wing in a matchbox," Snape drawled in his most bored tone. The ginger glared at him, but it would be beneath his dignity to return the gesture. "Might I suggest someone from my own House? Malfoy, perhaps?"

The name had sprung to his lips purely on impulse; Severus had been answering a letter to Lucius concerning the strange happenings and muggle-born petrifying incidents. With a sharp gesture from his teacher, the blond boy scampered up onto the stage to meet his rival. Draco and Potter, Severus recalled belatedly as the two boys squared off glaring and smirking, hated each other. Well. Unintentionally the potion master had arranged for a bit of entertainment for the mass of students assembled. Lee Jordan and the Weasley Twin Horrors were already taking bets.

After a brief encouragement not to injure Potter too badly, Severus stepped back to watch his godson tear the hated Harry Potter to pieces. Lockhart had deemed it important to impart some grains of golden wisdom on Harry as well, though they were decidedly received less gratefully. One could hear the sarcastic, "Thanks, Professor," all the way across the hall.

The duel began. Boys with no experience dueling had little chance of hurting each other. They knocked one another back and forth a few times, but neither knew a vast number of spells. With their arsenals depleted already, Severus strode forward and hauled Draco up by the scruff of his neck. "Use the serpent summoning spell," he murmured before he took his place back at the end of the platform. It was a simple spell, one every Slytherin student learned by the time they graduated. Some, like Draco, had known it before they began formal schooling. Sadly, no one ever remembered to use the spell.

Potter stood dumfounded as the angry cobra hissed at him, sliding closer and weaving back and forth like it was dancing.

"I'll get rid of it for you, Potter," Snape declared crisply. Honestly. The boy couldn't even perform a simple Vanishing spell. What hope did the brat have of defeating the Dark Lord? How had he managed so far without someone holding his hand?

But of course, Lockhart had to play hero. _Just like The Brat Who Can't Do Anything Right,_ Severus grumbled as he stepped back respectfully to watch Gilderoy make a fool of himself. The serpent, rather than Vanishing, flew up into the air and landed with a resounding thud right before a group of Hufflepuffs. Rather than an irritated snake, they now had a severely pissed off snake to deal with.

And then something happened that Severus did not expect.

Potter stepped forward, opened his mouth, and _Parseltongue_ came forth from his throat.

Standing in awe and fear, Severus could not tear his eyes away from the boy. Soft sibilants slithered forth like cool water over rock. The snake backed away from his intended victim almost immediately, hypnotized by Potter's voice, as was Severus. Cool, damp air wafted around him as the feeling of a den enclosed around his senses. Leafy decay and warm autumn spice filled his nose, drugging the potion master faster than any concoction he could brew. The warmth of sunlight touched his face, and Severus swore he could almost taste the golden tang of a fall sunset…

Harry Potter stood before him, not a sniveling second year student, but as a proud holder of one of the most feared powers known to wizard kind. The soft hissing never ceased, caressing his ears with its soothing melody. It was not the first time he had heard Parseltongue, but it was the first time he had heard it used in such a comforting and pleasurable way. Yes, the ability was both feared and revered, but in Potter's hands… Harry had the power to take this cursed gift and wield it for his own purposes. Both good and evil would tremble before this child if he chose to reach out and grasp the power that lay dormant inside himself. And Severus would follow him until Potter grew tired of him and cast the man from his sight. Anything, everything would be given up to know that wonderful, terrible, addictive force that The Boy Who Lived brandished with such childlike innocence.

And then someone made a noise, an uncomfortable cough, and the spell that Potter had unconsciously woven around his potions professor was broken. Moving jerkily, Severus Vanished the snake. All eyes in the Great Hall turned to Potter, who stared back in bewilderment. Potter turned his gaze to Severus's, his emerald eyes seeking the only adult in the room who could possibly explain what was going on. _He doesn't know what he's done_, Severus realized with an epiphany. _It sounds like English to him._

The other two parts of the Golden Trio dragged the boy off the stage and whisked him out of the Hall. Severus mechanically cleared the students out of the room. Lockhart had either run to tell Dumbledore or to hide under his desk; either way, the man was useless. Severus needed to find Harry, and he needed to do it _immediately_.

-  
>Predictably, Severus found Harry sitting atop the astronomy tower. Though he had never searched for the brat before, Severus knew that's where he would be. Everyone went to the top of the astronomy tower when they wanted to be alone; Severus himself had done it until he found James Potter up atop the spire moping.<em> That<em> was an experience that did not need remembrance.

Harry sat with his knees drawn up to his chin, emerald eyes staring blankly at the darkening horizon. Despite the chilly weather, the raven haired child wore nothing but a sweat shirt and jeans. Beside him was his beloved broom, the Nimbus Two Thousand. Twirling absently in his right hand was the holly wand. It amazed Severus how the boy never let his wand stray far from his grasp. Sure, it was a smart decision, but Severus wondered the reason behind the habit.

Silently as he could, Severus sat beside his least favorite student. Without turning to face him, Potter stated calmly, "You could have done **something** other than stand there."

"I Vanished the snake, did I not?" the man retorted indignantly. It occurred to him that he should not have to justify his actions to a twelve year old boy. _But he is not a typical twelve year old boy,_ Severus reminded himself as he attempted to calm his anger, _And today is not an ordinary day._ "I assume that Granger and Weasley have explained your actions to you?" As much as he disdained the two urchins, Granger had read enough books and Weasley was pure-blooded enough to know what Harry's ability was and where it supposedly came from.

The brat beside him nodded morosely. "I never really thought about it," he admitted, still not looking at Severus. "I mean, I assumed loads of people here could do it. Never really thought it was that special."

That piqued the potion master's interest. "This is not the first time you've spoken Parseltongue?" he asked as gently as he could. It wasn't particularly difficult to speak politely with the boy when he truly wanted information. What was difficult, he found much to his chagrin, was meeting those intelligent, lonely emerald orbs.

"I accidentally set a python loose on my cousin Dudley once, after Vanishing the glass in its cage in the zoo," Harry admitted with a chuckle that quickly lost its humorous tenor. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were furious, of course."

Petunia Evans. That was a name that Severus had not wanted to hear ever again. He wondered if she had changed much from the selfish, shrill, shrewish girl he knew from childhood. Doubtfully, in Severus's opinion, because her type never had enough self awareness to see the need for change.

"Do you know who was famous for being a parselmouth?" Severus asked lightly, hoping the boy was intelligent enough to understand the conjugation of the word.

With a nod, Harry elaborated, "Salazar Slytherin, which according to Ron is why Slytherin House has a snake for its emblem. 'Mione said that Voldemort was also rumored to be a parselmouth."

Severus nodded, content with Potter's understanding for the moment. "You do realize how serious this is, don't you Potter?" he asked crisply, falling back into his teaching voice effortlessly.

"If you mean that everyone will be thinking that I'm the Heir of Slytherin, then you're a bit late on the newest gossip, Professor," Harry informed him with a humorless grin that did nothing to hide the pain in his eyes. "Why do you think I had to fly up here? Some of the Hufflepuffs are demanding a lynching for what I supposedly almost did to Finch-fletchly."

Having been there at the time of the incident, Severus felt that the students were over reacting as per their usual. None of them seemed to have had as strong a reaction as he had though, which was for the best. Deep inside, Severus knew he wanted to keep that feeling for himself whether Potter had been its source or not. "Are you actually concerned about that, Potter?" Severus asked condescendingly.

Harry gave him a sharp look. "Of course not," the Hero of the Wizarding World scoffed, "They're Hufflepuffs; they can't do much. The Ravenclaws might be a bit more unpleasant that usual, and the Gryffindors are certainly wary, but I'm not in any physical danger."

"And the Slytherins?" Severus asked curiously. What did Harry think of his rival house? Did he care what they thought, or was he just as arrogant as his father and assumed that nothing interesting could come out of Slytherin HHHouse?

Another chuckle came easily from Harry. Severus was not sure what he was doing to encourage such behavior, but he needed to stop it immediately. "The Slytherins will probably be either enjoying my misery or not really caring," Harry answered easily. "It depends on how close they are to Malfoy."

It was an accurate assessment, much to Severus's surprise. Having gotten what he had come for, namely Potter's ignorance removed, Snape stood to return to his dungeons. Even they would be warmer than the blasted chill that permeated the air out on the tower. There was just one more thing that Severus wanted, though he was not entirely sure how to ask for it.

"Potter," he began slowly, unsure of how to voice his request without it sounding…creepy was the only word that sprang to mind, though he was loath to use it. 'Creepy' belonged in the vocabulary of a first or second year, not a thirty year old man.

A soft hissing sound graced his ears. Looking down, he saw the bright green eyes of a snake staring up at him. Once more he was enveloped in a crisp autumn day, the kind that appear more often in memory than in actuality.

"And what was that, Potter?" he asked when he finally ascended out of the depths of the daze Potter had placed him in.

"I said 'goodnight, Professor'," the boy explained, another cheeky grin on his face. Without waiting for a reply, Harry hopped on his broom and flew back to, Severus assumed, the warmth of Gryffindor Tower.

Severus stared after the arrogant boy for a few moments, then went inside. He needed a drink.

-  
>"Are we absolutely certain that it isn't young Harry?" Lockhart asked in his most charming interview voice as Severus entered the teacher's lounge. "I mean, he does have a bit of a thirst for publicity and he is a, well, you know." Among other things that Severus had to complain about when speaking of Gilderoy Lockhart, the man had the worst conspiratorial voice Severus had ever heard, including the Weasley prefect.<p>

"Of course Potter is not the Heir of Slytherin," Minerva snapped. Sitting in her favorite wooden chair and nursing a cup of tea, the Transfiguration teacher looked no worse for wear at being roused for another emergency involving a petrified student. "He's a half-blood, so there's no reason for him to be attacking muggle-borns. One of his best friends is muggle born. Besides, Potter simply would not do something like this. It's not in his nature. He's Gryffindor." The note of pride in her voice almost made Severus wretch as he poured a cup of tea.

Filius was quick to agree. "Oh yes, Potter would never ever do something like this," he declared with his high voice. Unlike Minerva, the tiny Charms professor looked as though he was half asleep on the sofa. "He's such a good boy. Reminds me so much of his mother, sometimes…"

Severus sat down on a wooden stool to wait for Dumbledore and Poppy. He had never heard the other professors' opinions on Potter. It was shocking to hear how well they liked him, and a bit of worry began to gnaw at the potions master. Was he the only one who hated the arrogant little imp?

"Severus?" Lockhart asked expectantly. "What do you think? Is Harry Potter, The Boy Who Saved Us All, the Heir of Slytherin?"

Raising a mocking eyebrow, Snape retorted, "One would think that to be the Heir of Slytherin, Potter would have to be in Slytherin House, now wouldn't he?" A part of Severus was unhappy that Lockhart had referred to the boy in ridiculously capitalized phrasing, just as he did. There was to be no common ground between that idiot DADA teacher and the potion master.

Minerva sent him a disapproving glance. "Harry is s sweet child, Severus," she admonished. "I do wish you would treat him better."

"I'll treat him better when he behaves better." The cold words signaled the end of the discussion. An awkward silence descended on the four teachers as they awaited the Headmaster, and Severus would not have changed the situation for anything in the world.

-  
>"Sir?" the red head asked tentatively from his spot on a pile of rubble. "What should I do about Professor Lockhart?"<p>

Severus didn't look up from his task of levitating the boulders out of the way so he could drag Potter's corpse back up through the girl's lavatory. Personally, Severus would have left the dunce on the floor unconscious where he had been for the last half hour. Unfortunately, the Ministry frowned upon celebrities dying in the bowels of Hogwarts. Hence the potions master's current task of digging out The Boy Who Talked With Snakes and Therefore Was Immortal. "If he comes to, hit him again," Severus ground out as he lost patience with the ineffectual method of clearing the rubble. With a flick of the wrist, he Vanished the offending obstacles.

"Yes sir!" Weasley responded enthusiastically. It was perhaps the first order that Severus had given him that the red head brat was willing to obey.

The door to the Chamber was wide open. Glancing cautiously inside, Severus saw the form of a great snake. _The basilisk!_ Flattening himself against the wall, Severus waited for the creature to move away. Hopefully Potter was close enough that Snape wouldn't have to sneak past the basilisk to retrieve the body. The amount of danger Severus put himself in for that brat was never worth it, in the end. Not even Lily's undying love was worth being killed and eaten by a basilisk.

After several minutes of silence, Severus looked through the portal once more. The snake hadn't moved. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was dead. Severus crept silently into the Chamber, just in case. The floor was wet and slimy with blood running in rivulets from the dead serpent. Its eyes had been gouged out by something, and there was a piercing hole through the animal's skull. Almost like a sword…

Had Potter killed the basilisk? That did not seem possible, and yet the boy was nowhere to be found. Logic dictated that Harry was victorious while common sense dissented, saying that there was no way for the second year to best a basilisk.

A great ruckus and the sound of a great bird came echoing from the antechamber where the Weasley boy had been left with his charge. Running back (though he would deny it later), Severus was shocked to find Harry holding onto the little Weasley girl, Fawkes clutching the Boy Who's Still Alive's shoulder protectively. _Of course the great red chicken would like the brat_, Severus grumbled as he made his way over to the happy gathering.

"Potter," he greeted curtly.

Harry looked up from embracing his friend and grinned at the potions master, temporarily flooring him. James Potter had looked at Sirius Black like that more times than Severus cared to remember. It was the reckless we-just-risked-life-and-limb-and-possibly-expulsion victory look, reserved for only certain people to see. Severus was honored to be one of them, and furious at himself for feeling honored.

"Professor," he replied breathlessly, peridot eyes shining and bright with adrenaline. "Fawkes has agreed to fly us out of here. Need a lift?" The joking tone directed at the cold potions master made the Weasley boy do a double take between the two dark haired males, obviously confused. Severus thought it was better that way.

"The Headmaster's phoenix will not consent to carry me," Severus explained lightly. Lockhart was beginning to rise to consciousness, groaning and moaning incoherently. Harry made a move to help his DADA teacher, but Snape shook his head. "Leave him. I'll take the imbecile to Madam Pomfrey."

With a nod from Potter, the phoenix took flight back up the pipe that led to the girl's lavatory. Severus didn't want to contemplate what Slytherin was thinking when he put his Chamber of Secrets in a women's bathroom…

-  
>Unlike the last time Severus had sat beside the injured form of Potter in the infirmary, there was a certainty that the boy would wake up and be completely fine. <em>Well, as normal as the brat can be, I suppose<em>, Severus amended as he folded the glasses and placed them on his knee. Harry's gentle breathing flowed in and out at a regular, restful pace. The stab wound on his arm, caused by a basilisk fang, was nothing more than a faint scar thanks to Fawkes' affection for the boy. Phoenix did not bestow their tears on just anyone.

"Hhhmmmm," Harry hummed gently as he stretched. Opening his eyes, he let his face curl into a wry grin. "Professor Snape?" he asked with a touch of humor.

"Yes?" Had the boy grown used to waking up in the infirmary with his cold, hated potions master by his side? It was an unsettling thought.

"May I have my glasses back, please?" the boy asked, his emerald eyes unfocused and slightly dazed. Severus handed them back without a word. "Thank you." Slipping on the spectacles, Harry looked expectantly up at his teacher.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Snape growled, raising an eyebrow in warning.

"You have grown fond of me, you know," Harry informed his least favorite teacher with a cheeky grin. "I just don't think you realize it yet."

"Don't be absurd, Potter," Severus drawled. The boy must have been having an ill favored side effect of one of the potions Poppy had given him. Admittedly the two had a strange relationship based in hatred and Potter's unbearable recklessness, but that did not rationalize the boy speaking to Severus in such a familiar way.

Harry shook his head. "It's the end of the year, sir," he pointed out needlessly. At Severus's blank stare, the boy elaborated. "I'm in the Hospital Wing again, you're sitting on my cot-which is an improvement from last year when you sat across the room-and I've once again proved you wrong. We're always absurd at this time of the year, and I think we deserve it. Don't you?"

Severus, for the first time, chuckled in the presence of Harry Potter. Second years: assuming that just because it's happened before, it will go on happening until the end of time. "If you say so, Potter," he relented. It wouldn't hurt him to be a little nicer just this once. Making a habit of such gestures might cause prolonged bouts of nausea and headaches.

The grin Potter gave him in return was almost enough to make the man regret his decision. It was far too happy and far too familiar a look for the brat to direct at Severus.

"Dumbledore told you what happened in the Chamber?" Potter guessed as he sat up. The effort did little to even their heights, which was no doubt his intent, but Potter continued undaunted. Severus nodded, and the boy continued, "I'm sorry for not telling you, but you wouldn't have let Ron and I down into the Chamber. We didn't want to take Lockhart, but he was dumb enough that we felt sure that we could overpower him if we needed to."

"You two were arrogant enough to assume you could overpower a fully grown and trained wizard?" Severus asked incredulously. The boy never ceased to surprise him.

Harry gave him a look that Severus was sure the boy had also shared with Weasley and his other year mates. "Lockhart is a bumbling idiot," he declared calmly, unworried about debasing a teacher in the hearing of another teacher.

"For once Potter, we agree on something," Severus stated dryly. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to go brew the potion that will wake your Granger friend."

Standing up carefully so as not to jostle the boy's cot, Severus turned to stride dramatically out of the room. He knew quite well that as soon as he walked out those doors that the moment of familiarity (_companionship_, some part of his mind supplied) would be broken between the two. Severus would once more hate Potter for existing, and Potter would once again hate Severus because that's what all students at Hogwarts were expected to do.

"Professor?" the boy called. Severus turned around warily; the teasing tone had reared its ugly head again. A swift string of sibilants slithered from the boys mouth, halting Severus in his tracks.

For a brief moment, Severus was dazed and confused and a bit high on the imagery that the simple hissing aroused in him. "What did you say, Potter?" he asked the moment he could, still slightly breathless and hating it. He would find a way to prevent Potter from effecting him so next year. The loathsome brat had no right to such a power over him.

"Thank you."

Severus had no desire to see the grateful, happy look in the boy's eyes as he stared up at his least favorite teacher. He wasn't even sure what he had done that deserved thanks. Turning on his heel with a brisk nod, Severus Snape swung the Hospital Ward doors open and strode out into the empty halls of the castle.

_That insufferable boy is going to be the death of me, I know it. _

_-  
><em>Questions? Comments? Concerns? Review, and I'll do what I can to explain!_  
><em>


	3. Maybe it's Not My Weekend

So, yeah. I'm really late with this update. I apologize. I have all the chapters written, technically, but I go through them and flesh out details until I have everything just right. I'm finding it difficult to set aside time for that, which sucks because I love it so much. There's not much more to say than I'm sorry.

In this chapter we have an unstable Snape, which I always saw as important to his character. And some Star Wars references because I'm feeling nerdy.  
>ALSO: if you think about it, follow me on tumblr. My url is notamongtheangels; I'm loads of fun, I promise. Kinda.<p>

Year Three:

Maybe It's Not My Weekend

Potter had officially out done himself. Even at his most selfish that damn brat had never attempted such a foolhardy and idiotic venture. Potter had deliberately acted in a way that would have killed an ordinary wizard, ignoring the rules and confronting beings that, by nature, could and would rend others limb from limb (and Severus didn't mean the werewolf). Of course, Potter was so freakish that werewolves, murderers, and sinister plots flocked to him like sheep to their shepherd; Potter was an abomination himself, the King of the Anathema. They wove a grotesque dance around the brat, and Harry stood there and grinned at the abominations and greeted them like long lost friends.

This was also the first time that Harry's actions affected him directly. Potter had unintentionally involved him this year, and like everything Potter touched, he had rotted, withered, and fell broken back to earth after a brief stint on wax wings. That was what hurt the most; Harry had chosen that vile cur over Severus. It was an act so reminiscent of James Potter that Severus had to reign himself in from flinging hexes and insults the moment he burst through the infirmary doors. Years of mastering his temper would not be thrown away carelessly because of one small, pale, insignificant, unruly _child_.

-  
>The green wingback chair directly in front of the fire had always been Severus's favorite. Its worn leather and soft embrace had calmed him on many occasions before he had schooled his mind and temper into perfect submission. There were few things that could shatter that iron will, so the potion master rarely had to seek comfort from his favored perch. In the self imposed darkness of Spinner's End, nothing could touch Severus. He's was invincible, protected from everything in his life that did not bear to be thought of. Everything except the newspaper, flung away in disgust, shock, and a bit of fear. Shameful, painful fear.<p>

Screaming on the front page of the crowded Daily Prophet, Sirius Black looked very much like the murderer Severus knew him to be. His face was gaunt, contorted with blind rage as his mind slowly deteriorated. The dark brown eyes that Severus had come to fear were dulled; there was no spark of triumph and arrogance, there was barely any intelligence. Black's face, once considered handsome, was gaunt and bruised. He looked like a corpse that had only just begun to decompose.

His immediate, fearful reaction to the picture was simple to rationalize: Severus was still terrified of his school tormentors. _If a picture of Black did that to me, I shudder to think what Potter's image would do_, Snape thought as he tried to even his breathing. He hadn't even managed to read the title of the article.

Gingerly picking up the newspaper, Severus began to read. Panic flowed through him as he read, stronger and stronger until he thought that he might have to fetch a Calming Draught out of his cupboard. Black, one of the most insane men in Azkaban, killer of Peter Pettigrew, second in command of the Marauders, had escaped from Azkaban. The first person to ever do so. The paper didn't reveal any important details, but one excerpt caught Severus's eye and held it.

"No one knows why Black chose now to escape. But there were reports of Black muttering 'he's at Hogwarts' in his sleep. Could Black be attempting to resurrect He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Or is he after the son of his long time friend whom he failed to finish, Harry Potter?"

"Harry," Severus murmured, brow furrowed. No, it was impossible. Black was insane and clever enough to break out of Azkaban, but he wasn't fool enough to hunt for Harry at Hogwarts. Was he?

Severus shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. Harry would be fine. Severus would make sure of it.

-  
>"Severus," Lupin greeted cordially. The man seemed determined to be polite, borderline amicable around Severus. If he thought that would make up for the horrid things that had happened when they were younger, the wolf had another thing coming. "The headmaster said that you have the Woflsbane potion for me?"<p>

Jerking a thumb at the steaming chalice on the table, Severus continued reading his book. If he opened his mouth, the potions master knew that his job would probably be forfeit. _Dumbledore always favored the Marauders,_ he allowed himself one bitter, whiny thought, _And he always will._ Harry Potter's continued attendance at Hogwarts was proof that Dumbledore still held James Potter up on a pedestal of awe and laud, just like everyone else in the world.

Remus Lupin would not have been such an antagonistic part of Severus' life had it not been for James. In the early years, when Lily was still his, Remus would study with the two of them in the library. He never felt quite accepted into the Marauders, which Severus had always thought of with a vicious glee. Perhaps it would have been the one thing of James Potters that he had managed to steal. In reality, the only true Marauders were Black and Potter. All the verisimilitude in the world could not turn two pathetic boys into handsome, charming, witty, brilliant…Severus brought himself short with a growing horror. He had begun to praise the traits of the Fatal Four. The werewolf in the room was obviously messing with his mental faculties.  
>James Potter had his way, of course. One evening during their second year Black and Potter had sat the scrawny Gryffindor boy down and gave him a long talking to, the exact content of which Severus had never been privy. Losing his only non Slytherin male friend had been a small blow to Severus at the time, seeing as he still had the lovely Lily, but years later it had welled up and reminded him just how often Gryffindor's Golden Students get their way.<p>

"Bleh," Lupin gasped, placing the goblet on the table once more and pulling a disgusted face. "That stuff is absolutely horrid."  
>"I wouldn't know," Severus said with mock lightness as he quirked an eyebrow. Lupin growled at him, and the sound was so shocking and so reminiscent of their childhood that Severus was up with his wand out before his rational thought processing could be bothered to catch up; all he knew was that a guttural noise like that from one of <em><strong>them<strong>_ meant an attack was on its way. Not from a werewolf, but a Gryffindor. A Marauder.

Lupin stared at the wand pointed at his jugular in surprise. "Severus," he began in puzzlement, "I meant nothing by it. What on earth is wrong?"

Feeling more than a little stupid, the potions master sat back down. The wand disappeared back into a fold of his robes, for the moment. "Old habits die hard, Lupin," he gritted out with all the dignity he had remaining. Had he given some signal to the shabby Gryffindor that it was acceptable to call Severus by his given name? It was a mistake on Lupin's part if he thought that Snape would allow such nonsense to lull him into a false sense of security. The man was a Marauder, and as such untrustworthy at the best of times.

"Hm," Lupin made a noncommittal noise as he continued to sip the potion. Severus tried not to take offense to the disgusted face the man was wearing; it wasn't the fault of the brewer that Wolfsbane was practically unpalatable. "Severus, you've been teaching here for quite some time, if I recall?"

"Yes," the potions master replied in a cautious monotone. Hopefully the man wasn't trying to make small talk. Not only was Severus dreadful at the art of polite conversation, he also had no desire to partake in pleasantries with this particular man. If he was lucky, Lupin would take his singular answer as the offer to fuck off he so obviously intended.

"How is Harry?" the shabbier man asked bluntly, staring at Severus with such concern and affection that he felt the need to retch or perhaps break something. "I met him on the train. He seems…quiet. Reserved, almost. There's nothing wrong with him, I hope?"

Severus stared into those wretched, innocent, kind eyes for innumerable moments. This was a man whose life was what one would see should they desire to search for the meaning of 'total ruin', and yet he was concerned about the son of his best friend. Harry Potter, whose life was so utterly different and who outclassed Lupin so soundly that Severus felt the need to chuckle darkly at imagining the two Gryffindors being in the same room. A kinship had already formed in the wolf's mind with the young Hero. He was _concerned_, and perhaps the most bitter part of that truth was the fact that as a fellow Marauder, Lupin had a right to be.

"If there is something wrong with the boy," Severus growled, "I assure you that I would be the last to know about it." Which was the undeniable truth.

The look of incredulity Lupin gave him almost made him smirk. "Do you and Harry not get on, Severus?" he asked as he set the now empty goblet down on the desk. Walking over, Remus sat down gently on a chair across from Severus. "I would have thought that with him being Lily's son…" The weak trailing off of his sentence was almost as contemptible to Snape as the thoughtless words had been.

"He has too much of his father in him," the Head of Slytherin retorted acerbically. "Arrogant, disrespectful, reckless, self centered-"

Lupin smiled a knowing little smile and cut him off quietly, "I did not mean to distress you, Severus. Though I do not know the boy very well yet, I can tell that he is as much Lily's son as he is James's.

"I think I'll leave you to your reading," he said standing back up and gingerly stretching. The full moon was drawing closer, instilling a prematurely rheumatic ache in the man's body. "Thank you again, Severus."

With that, Remus Lupin slipped quietly out of Severus's office. This left the potion master alone with his thoughts and the dim green light from the fireplace.

The sniveling wimp Lupin was concerned for Harry in a way that left a bitter taste in Severus' mouth. Twelve years too late the man had decided to take an interest in the boy's life and he expected to waltz in and have Severus spill all he knew about Harry like a chattering fourth year Hufflepuff girl? It was an insult to both of their intelligences. And Harry would let him do it, Severus knew. The boy was hungry for information about his parents. Any scrap of knowledge, no matter how biased the source, was like a feast for the stupid boy. Harry had never bothered to ask him about his parents, about the lovely Lily. He who knew Lily better than any other, and yet the boy was going to settle for third rate memories from a man who was barely human. It was disgustingly unfair that Severus had to vie for the boy's trust the way that he did when Potter would undoubtedly shower it upon the disgusting mongrel because of something as stupid as Gryffindor loyalty. And yet…

Lupin had a right to be concerned for the boy; as far as the man was concerned, he was practically Harry's uncle. There was a claim of family, a connection that Severus would never have with Potter.

Why would Snape want a connection to the insolent brat anyway? They had made it painfully obvious (to each other and to the rest of the world) that they loathed each other with barely constrained fury. Nothing could be done to bridge such a gap, not that either party wanted to try. Harry was like a reincarnation of James; the only difference between the two Potters' relations with Severus was that (due to his position of authority) Severus always triumphed over Harry.

Yes, Lupin was welcome to fawn over Harry and coddle him like everyone else in the world. He would be doing a disservice to Harry by not seeing him for what he truly was, the way Severus saw him. It would hurt both Gryffindors in the end, so surely that was reason enough to endure for a little while the sour curdling taste of jealousy that flooded his mouth?

-  
>The weather was absolutely abysmal for a Quidditch match. The pouring rain made it difficult to make out what players from which team were doing what. Not that Severus liked Quidditch even in the best conditions. It was a dangerous, boring, simplistic sport that left no room for strategy. Get the ball through the hoop and try not to die; honestly, how had such a moronic game become the universal wizard pass time? The only acceptable part of the games at Hogwarts was Lee Jordan's running commentary, though Severus knew that if he voiced a favorable opinion of the Weasley Twins' lackey that Minerva would likely hex him.<p>

Why was he even braving the elements to watch the damn game? Slytherin was not competing at the moment, and he had no interest in watching the Hufflepuffs lose for the umpteenth time. The Inter House Quidditch Cup was really a competition between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Everyone knew it, seeing as the two rival Houses always managed to not only have the best teams, but the desire to smite the other Houses. Slytherin dominated because it was in their nature, while Gryffindors fought for the glory of victory and the need to lead.

A thin, sopping form in bright scarlet whizzed past the teachers stand. There was no mistaking that unruly mop of black hair; Potter, seeker extraordinaire, was on the hunt. The boy flew with a grace that was unparalleled by anyone Severus had ever seen, and had he given a damn about such things he would have been inclined to be impressed. Even James Potter, who had been offered the chance to Seek professionally, could not compare to his son. _And he would have been completely jealous despite the fact that it's his own son,_ Severus thought with the vicious glee only brought about by besting someone hated.

And then suddenly, the object of his begrudging praise simply **had** to prove him wrong. In the middle of the field (pitch, his mind unhelpfully provided), Harry Potter was plummeting to earth like an angel who had just had his wings clipped. Following the boy's descent was an entire company of dementors.

Terror that had nothing to do with the foul creatures seized Severus. Harry, his redemption, his charge, was in danger. Before he could raise a wand to save the boy, Albus called out a spell. With the knowledge that Harry could not be in safer hands, his own excepted, Snape turned his wrathful attention on the dementors.

_Think of a happy thought_, he hissed to himself frantically. Unbidden, the memory of Harry thanking him in parseltongue at the end of the previous school year leapt to his mind. The elegant silver doe erupted from his wand and charged straight at the dementors with all the fury her master could muster. From the corner of his eye Severus registered an ethereal tabby cat and a hulking wolf-like animal coming as well to join his doe in the fray. McGonnagal and Lupin.

Between the three of them, the dementors quickly fled the grounds. The patronuses followed right on the demons' metaphoric heels, chasing them all the way to the farthest reaches of the property and corralling them there until Dumbledore could deal with them in a fitting manner.

In a flurry of soaked black robes, Severus made his way down to the ground where Harry lay unconscious. Someone, somewhere was going to bear the brunt of his ire but at the moment all that mattered was levitating Harry to the Hospital Wing.

"Severus," Dumbledore acknowledged as he leaned over the seeker's prone body. The long white beard was trailing in the mud and his eyes refused to harbor that ever damnable twinkle. Perhaps that was for the best; Severus was unsure if he could handle the older man's perpetual good humor at such a time. "He's alive. Would you be willing to-"

A nonverbal _mobilicorpus_ answered the unfinished question. Potter hovered gently in the air just under the level of Snape's shoulder. "See to the dementors," Severus growled as he began the trek back to the castle over the marshy landscape. Another nonverbal spell created a sort of shield around Potter, preventing the rain from falling on him. The last thing Severus wanted, as he flicked a drying spell at the boy and himself, was for Potter to drown due to raindrops. There was no less heroic death he could think of at that moment.

"My, my," he heard Albus chuckle quietly as they parted. Resisting the urge to turn and play the headmaster's sick little games wasn't very difficult with Potter's wellbeing taking the forefront of his thoughts. "You really are worried about the lad."

It was a silent journey through the empty castle. Everyone had turned out, despite the despicable weather, to watch the Quidditch match. The entire castle would empty every time Potter played, not that the boy ever noticed. Seeing Harry on a broom, in his element, was a joy to watch no matter what House a person was in. Even Severus ascended from his dark dungeon domain to watch the boy do what he did best. Now though, with Harry Potter levitating limply beside him as he half jogged through the deserted corridors, Severus was having unpleasant worries as to whether the boy would ever even be able to wake up, let alone sit astride a broom.

A blast of magic from the wand he still clutched tightly in his hand flung the doors of the infirmary open wide, slamming them against the stone walls with enough force to damage the thick wood they were carved from.

"Severus!" Poppy yelled as she came skidding down the rows of beds. "What on earth has gotten into you?" Without a word, Severus brought Harry around into the medi-witch's line of sight. Seeing the woman purse her lips in aggravation and concern was perhaps the best sight the potion master had since Harry's fall. "Place him on his usual cot," she directed briskly, whipping out her wand and pointing to a bed.

The fact that Harry was in this ward often enough to have a cot considered his own gave Severus a vaguely disturbed, uneasily concerned feeling near the back of his head. It would develop into a splitting headache soon, he was certain. Placing the young Gryffindor down on the bed, Severus stepped back to allow Poppy room to work.

"Severus, would you mind grabbing a painkilling potion from the cabinet?" she asked distractedly as she waved her wand over Potter from head to toe and back. "Whichever one you think is best, of course."

Feeling honored that the ever irascible witch actually wanted his help instead of shooing him out the way she banished everyone else, Severus grabbed what he knew to be a medium strength pain killer from her stores. This particular potion, he was certain, he had brewed himself; Severus would trust no other brewer, not even Poppy, with the mixtures for the brat. Potter was Severus' responsibility, and no one would be taking any part of that away from him. It was a limited enough role already.

Not long after Poppy had patched Potter up, what seemed to be the whole of Gryffindor House gathered at the still open infirmary doors. "Madam Pomfrey?" Wood, the captain of the team and the one who encouraged such reckless behavior from Potter, inquired insistently, "Is Harry going to be alright? May we see him?"

"No," Snape snarled, surprising himself and the scarlet and gold swarm of well wishers. _Well, I might as well finish what I began._ "Mr. Potter needs rest and quiet, neither of which you ignorant and reckless children seem to understand the meaning of."

Wood and three of the Weasleys began shouting immediately, followed shortly by the three girls on the team and Granger. The rest of the group brought up the rear, creating a mindless, discontented hum in the background.

"Mr. Potter is fine," Poppy interrupted, giving Severus a harsh look that he didn't deign to acknowledge. "Let him wake up on his own. The Gryffindor team plus Weasley and Granger may stay. The rest of you lot need to go back to Gryffindor Tower and change before you die of pneumonia."

With a few more grumbles, a large portion of the horde trudged off in a sopping cluster, presumably toward Gryffindor Tower. The eight that remained crowded around Harry's bed, creating an impenetrable wall of red and gold loyalty and concern. Severus opened his mouth to order them to move back, that Potter wouldn't want them hovering, but Poppy glared at him in such a way that the man shut his mouth with a surprised snap.

"You can talk to Harry after his friends are certain he's okay," the woman informed him sharply. The look on her face and the way she stressed 'friends' made it abundantly clear that Severus Snape was not privileged enough to be on the list of individuals Poppy considered to be Harry Potter's friends. "Until then, Severus, you'll have to endure watching them man-handle the poor darling until he's utterly exhausted."

In that simple phrase, two realizations hit Severus. One was that the list of people on staff who truly cared about the Potter boy for who he was and not what he was (or who he was related to) was longer than he though. The second… "Poppy," he shook his head with begrudging admiration. "How do you do it? Heal each one of these little monsters and then watch all of your perfect work go down the drain the moment a visitor comes?"

"By remembering that they have other needs besides physical healing, Severus," Poppy replied solemnly. With that, the plump witch bustled back to her desk. Severus shook his head in admiration, his respect for the tetchy healer rising several notches.

Waiting for the herd of lions to leave was perhaps the longest forty-five minutes of Severus Snape's life. There were moments when he thought that he might have to banish the lot of them from the infirmary because they were distressing Potter so much. Telling the child that not only did they lose the game but his favorite possession had been mangled by the Whomping Willow was not the best way to awaken from slumber after an accident. An accident, Severus thought with a scowl, which could have taken his life. What had happened to cause Potter to fall off of his broom? That was the crux of the matter, in Severus's estimation.

At long last, the cluster of well wishers disbanded. As they parted like a blood red sea, Severus could see Harry's battered form reclined once more on the cot. His eyes were closed and his posture rigid. Assuming the boy was in pain, Severus half-ran to his side immediately.

"Potter?" he ventured, sitting cautiously on the chair that one of the students had just vacated. The boy's face was drawn in pain, the wonderful green eyes obscured from view. "Do you require another potion?"

Potter snapped his eyes open in shock. "Professor Snape?" he sputtered inarticulately as usual. "What are you doing here?"

Ignoring the hurt that flared up at the impertinent brat's disbelief, Severus raised a mocking eyebrow. "You are in the infirmary, are you not?" he snapped rhetorically. Was this the thanks he received for saving the boy's life yet again?

"Sorry professor," he muttered, for once properly abashed at his impertinent behavior. "I didn't expect to see you here. Were you watching the game?"

That damnably innocent tone made Severus's teeth ache, and what made it worse was the fact that Harry was telling the truth. The brat did not realize that the entire school watched his every game and he truly believed that Severus would allow him to sit in the infirmary while his fan club pranced around preventing him from healing properly.

"Potter, do try to keep your stupidity to yourself," he drawled, simply out of habit. Potter, easily infuriated as usual, opened his mouth to make a scathing yet ill worded retort. "Are you feeling any better?" The question was both stupid and useless; the boy had just fallen several hundred feet from a flying broomstick. It was unreasonable to expect the brat to be able to walk such an injury off. The question served its purpose though, effectively redirecting Potter's train of thought.

"I'm fine," he insisted with a huff. He reached out a hand toward the potions professor, his face open and expecting. Severus was completely and utterly baffled at the gesture. Harry was looking at him with a small smile which only increased the older man's confusion. It was a cue for him to do something, he realized. Had it been anyone but Potter or Potter directing the silent plea at anyone other than the great bat of the dungeons, Severus would have thought the boy was asking for assistance to sit up.

"Could you give me a hand up, sir?" Harry finally asked once it seemed that Severus would not answer his silent request. "I have homework to do, and Ron wanted-"

"You will not be going anywhere, Mr. Potter," Severus interrupted abruptly. The boy obviously had injured his head far worse than he had originally assessed. Only a complete idiot would want to go gallivanting off into the sunset so soon after such an ordeal. "You have been injured quite-"

Harry rolled his eyes and began to heave himself up into a sitting position. As he moved, a brief flash of pain went across the young boy's face. Before he could damage himself further, Severus was up and gently urging him to recline once more. "Stay still, you brat." His order lacked its usual venom, replaced by something almost caring. That was an utterly ridiculous notion; he, Severus Snape, caring for Harry Potter as an actual person. Severus simply did not want all of Poppy's hard work to go to waste.

"Fine," the boy grumbled, turning slightly so that Snape wouldn't see him pout. The professor noticed anyway. When it seemed that Potter would listen to reason and be still, Severus reclaimed his place in the chair near the bed. "My friends said that dementors got into the pitch, that Dumbledore saved me, and that my broom was smashed to bits by that damn-" Severus raised an eyebrow, "erm, by the Whomping Willow. Is that it, in a nutshell?"

Choosing to ignore the colloquialism, Severus nodded. "Yes, that is an accurate summation of this morning's events," he conceded. The boy didn't really need to know that Severus, Minerva, and Lupin had all three jumped to his aid to banish the dementors, nor did he need to be privy to the fact that Severus had carried him to the infirmary.

"Do you always talk like that?" Harry asked, his sharp green eyes boring into Severus's black ones with curiosity.

"What are you blathering about, Potter?" he asked calmly. Leaning back in his chair, the professor had to resist the urge to simply close his eyes and rub his temples. Exhaustion was creeping up on him, and the headache he always had in the brat's presence was starting to rear its ugly head.

"Do you always talk like there's a dictionary in your head that you just flip through and use big words at will?" Harry rephrased, though it was not much more coherent than the previous version. "I mean, you don't even use contractions."

"Potter," Snape warned. The boy was being overly familiar with him again, probably because they were in the infirmary. Every time that the two of them were alone in that accursed room the strict dichotomy of the Evil Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House(bane of students everywhere) and Harry Freaking Potter The Boy Who Lived (the hero of Gryffindor) seemed to fall by the wayside. The brat would overstep his bounds, and Severus would let him even going so far as to unintentionally encourage it by answering the chit's questions truthfully.

Also in these disconcerting moments Harry's Slytherin nature would rise from the depths like a sleeping leviathan. It scared Severus to know how much he enjoyed that aspect of Potter's personality.

Potter was silent for a few more minutes as he simply stared into his potion master's eyes, as if trying to discern what was going on in his head. _He would not maintain such prolonged eye contact if he knew of legilimency_, Severus thought as he watched his reflection in those perfect peridot gems. Such a pity that those perfect eyes were in so loathsome a face.

"Do you_** think**_ like that, too?" Harry blurted before he could stop himself. Caught off guard, Severus let a slight chuckle escape before slipping back behind his wonderfully emotionless mask. "You do, don't you!" the brat exclaimed triumphantly. "I knew it! That's wicked."

The grin that Harry gave him at that moment, more than anything else the brat had insisted, assured Severus that he was alright. "Well, Mr. Potter," he said as he stood up. It was a bit difficult to remain imposing when he had to look almost straight down to see Potter on the cot, but the potion master managed. "You seem to be no worse for wear. I had briefly considered allowing you an extension on that essay you owe me, but it appears you will not need it. Three feet on the proper method of harvesting boomslang skin, due Monday afternoon as originally assigned. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Mr. Potter."

In a swish of black robes, Severus turned and marched out of the Hospital Wing. The only thing sweeter than the knowledge that the bratty puck was uninjured was the dismayed groan that echoed through the room as he left.

-  
>A piece of paper should not force anyone to lose their temper so easily. In truth, it was not the wretched scrap of parchment itself that caused Severus to forget himself; rather, the four collective consciousnesses in the paper were responsible for the ever stoic potions master making a fool of himself not only in front of Lupin, but in Harry's presence as well. Though if Harry had not antagonized him, Severus seriously doubted that the sight of the Map would have affected him so strongly. Potter had always possessed the unique ability to crawl under his skin and remain beneath the surface, burning and blistering like dragon fire until it was all Snape could do to verbally flay him. The Marauders, Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord could not claim to hold as loathsome a position in Severus' life as The Boy Who Lived lorded over him.<p>

It was not the first encounter with that wretched map. It was always in Potter or Black's hand or pocket, as if they were afraid to leave it lying around where some sneaky Slytherin such as Severus Snape might find it. The two boys were really just too proud of their invention to leave it lying about. The Marauders' Map was the brain child of Potter and Black, and they treated it as lovingly and gently as they would an infant. Any physical manifestation of their own cleverness and arrogance was worthy of laud, apparently.

Spelling the convoluted paper into insulting Severus personally was an addition of Potter's, he knew from experience. That, more than any skillful lying employed by Lupin, assured Severus of the identity of The Brat's bit of innocuous parchment. Harry Potter was now the proud possessor of James Potter and Sirius Black's favorite creation. Hogwarts castle was doomed. With the Map and Cloak in his arsenal, The Boy Who Breaks Curfew would be practically unstoppable.

Severus jolted to a halt at that thought, standing before the fireplace in his personal quarters and panting as though he had been jogging. With a groan of frustration and defeat, the potions master collapsed onto the soft black couch near the hearth. Protecting Harry would be nearly impossible now. Under the cloak, Severus had no chance of finding him. Hell, Albus admitted that he found locating the boy difficult while he was under the Cloak. But now that he had the Map (and apparently the knowledge of how to use it, or he would not have been so edgy about it being in Severus's clutches), the brat would know where Severus was and how to avoid him.

The throbbing headache that Severus only suffered from when thinking of a certain bratty, insolent Gryffindor began to set in, so the professor did the only thing he could do: summoned a bottle of some potion or another that would cure his throbbing headache and curled up on the sofa to watch the fire die.

If Albus would allow the boy to know at least a bit more, Severus would not have to spend his evenings with a tension headache (at Potter's hands, anyway; grading essays was a pain of a different variety). The brat needed to know just how important he was. The fate of the wizarding world rested upon his young shoulders, and sneaking about the castle and off the grounds was a quick way to doom them all. The boy had so much potential. Having seen the Slytherin side of Potter more than anyone else, and with the knowledge of his past deeds, Severus was confident that the boy would, if given enough training and warning, rise to the occasion magnificently and eradicate the Dark Lord once and for all.

Well. _That _was a bit more melodramatic a thought than he typically entertained. Perhaps the potion he had taken was…no, of course not. It was one of his own brewing, therefore the potion was flawless.

In a wonderful paradox, telling Potter that he was the fulcrum upon which all things turn was a conversation that the potions master did not relish taking part in. The boy's ego would expand exponentially until not even Hogwarts Castle could house it. No, perhaps Albus was wise to keep the urchin in the dark.

Like so many of his recent musing, Severus's thoughts had lead him right back to where he had begun. Potter was always going to act foolishly because he did not know better. Severus was doomed to continually saving Gryffindor's Golden Boy, because of an act he should have known better than when he was young. And Albus would proceed to act like he really knew better than all of them, the Twinkle Eyed Demon. All in all, penance was a bitch.

Exhausted, Severus heaved himself up off the couch and headed towards his bedroom. Contrary to popular rumor flitting about the castle, Severus Snape was human. As he flicked his wand at the fire, instantly blanketing his chambers in darkness, thoughts of werewolves and murderers and dementors danced around his head, circling one small boy with bright peridot eyes. Yes, in these dark moments when his uncertainty crashed down upon him, Severus Snape was very human indeed.

-  
>Severus carried the goblet of Wolfsbane potion carefully down the aisles of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, heading for the office at the rear of the room. It was, he thought with malicious humor, Lupin's time of the month. The urge to kick the door open was almost overwhelming, but seeing as Severus still intended to occupy these rooms someday he refrained. Edging open the cracked door, the potion master headed over to the desk where he typically placed the potion.<p>

"Come now Lupin," he mocked quietly, "drink up before it gets too-" The scathing quip died on his tongue. Lupin was not in his rooms. There was, however, a piece of parchment stretched out beside the chalice of potion. Tiny footprints dotted the map, names hovering above, moving across the Map. He found his own name, absolutely immobile in the DADA office. Why had Lupin not cleared the Map? Of all the horrible traits possessed by the mongrel, forgetfulness was not one of them. Scanning the Map once more, Severus found Lupin's name traveling quickly towards a passage at the edge of the paper. Had he chosen to transform _there_ tonight, for old time's sake?

At the end of the passage were three other names, two of which stopped Severus's heart cold. Sirius Black. Peter Pettigrew.

The very little color that Snape possessed drained from his face. Another name was in the middle of the passage, trapped between the werewolf and the murderer. Harry Potter.

As whenever Harry was in trouble, a single minded focus came over Severus. Only things that had to do with Harry's wellbeing could be done when he was in such a state. Grabbing the goblet of potion, Severus ran out of the office and back through the classroom. Harry was in trouble, far deeper trouble than he had ever been in before.

Severus's flight to the grounds was a blur of grey stone that slowly morphed into green grass.

It had to be around there somewhere, it had to be. Otherwise Harry was going to be dead and Black would win. Severus did not bother to consider which was the more unpleasant of the two, he simply continued scanning the ground for-aha! The Cloak. James Potter's infamous Cloak of Invisibility, handed down along the Potter line for generations. The man would be rolling in his grave to know that slimy Snivellous had gotten his hands on it, but that was a victory to be savored later. Harry was about to be murdered.

Whirling the cloak around himself, Snape took off at a dead run for the Whomping Willow. Years ago he learned the secret to entering the passage beneath. At the time, he had been foolish enough to use a stick; what self respecting wizard forgets his magic? Firing a spell at the knot, Severus slid down into the dark shaft.

-  
>The brat had stunned him. Harry Potter had <em>stunned <em>him with no more than a flick of his wand and a flippant _expelliarmus_. It had been so blatantly unexpected-that was the only explanation, Severus surmised as he floated disgracefully along behind the brat and his new dog. Severus had made the mistake of assuming that Potter wouldn't dare raise his hand against the potion's master. Obviously, Severus had misinterpreted something when he suspected that the boy might hold at least a smidgen of grudging respect for him.

Another sharp slam of his head against the dirty, rocky roof of the tunnel made Snape groan. Pain and exasperation mixed with a little self loathing; what a wonderful combination. That particular trio of emotions was like an old friend, really. An unwanted yet familiar entity that insisted on spending time with him.

"I know you'll probably want to stay with your aunt and uncle," Black was saying. The timid strain in his voice would have almost been worth a chuckle in any other situation. "But -once my name is cleared, I mean- if you would ever want a…second home…?"

"Leave the Durselys?" Harry squeaked, his voice cracking. "Live with you?" His voice was just a little too desperate for Severus's liking. Dumbledore had informed Severus just how inhuman Potter's relatives were; if such a chance was dangled in front of him at that age, Severus would probably have lunged at it desperately as well. _Think, Potter, for once in your life_, Severus snarled silently, _that pathetic shell of a man can't even take care of himself, let alone another child._

"I can understand that you wouldn't want to…" Black trailed off forlornly. He sounded utterly crushed. Good.

"Are you insane?" Harry croaked._ Of course he is. No sane men come out of Azkaban._ Severus could almost see the desperately adoring look that Potter must have been lavishing upon Black. "Do you have a house? When can I move in?"

Severus saw red.

-  
>"You imbecile!" Severus bellowed as he strode down the rows of cots in the infirmary, black robes snapping behind him in a parallel of his fury. Severus's face was contorted in a special type of rage reserved solely for those unfortunate enough to be named Potter. "Is there nothing in that empty cavity you insist on calling a skull?"<p>

"Professor, please, Ron is sleeping," Harry had the gall state calmly. He didn't even deign to look up from the prone ginger. Snape begrudgingly (and silently) cast a _muffliato_ on the gangly youth on the cot. Potter did have a point; Weasley didn't deserve to see the two of them in the midst of their end of year infirmary chat.

"Do you not understand the gravity of your actions, Potter?" he repeated, volume only slightly lessened. Potter looked over at him questioningly from across the cot. "You. Would. Have. Died."

"That seems to be a more common occurrence than not, but I'm still here," Harry retorted mulishly.

Severus eyes widened. "How dare you," he hissed, glaring at Potter. Walking around the bed, he grabbed Potter by the arm and hauled him away from Weasley, down the rows to the cot labeled as Potter's. "You are the most arrogant, ignorant child I have ever had the misfortune of teaching. The gods see fit to bless you with talent and intelligence and you squander it on liars, thieves, and murderers. You are reckless and a fool, and not worth the effort I have put into keeping you alive. If you wish to go and die in whatever manner you see fit, Potter, kindly make certain that I will not have to clean up your corpse!"

Severus was heaving in deep breaths by the time he had finished. Potter stared up at him utterly dumfounded and a little hurt. Good. The boy would never understand the severity of his transgressions unless it was spread out for him as such. Softer methods did not seem to penetrate his abysmally thick skull.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked, emerald eyes staring up wetly at Severus. This was not what the potion's master had expected. Crying, sniveling, and declarations of the unfairness of it all might have been a bit closer.

"Tell you what?"

Potter lowered himself tiredly onto his cot. Severus stared down at him, remnants of anger and confusion making his gaze less than friendly. "That my dad and Sirius were best friends. Why didn't you tell me what had happened? I understand that Professor Lupin couldn't because he had to keep his…condition secret, but why didn't you tell me anything? I think I deserve to know the story of my own life."

_Telling you would require revealing my part in the plot, and I could not handle your revulsion. You're the only one left alive who can forgive me, and I refuse to jeopardize that._ But there was no possibility of Severus Snape admitting that aloud. "Why did you neglect to tell me that you were having difficulties with the dementors? Why was I not privy to your attempts to sneak into Hogsmeade? Why have you never thought to seek me out before you run gallivanting off into the fray?" Severus said in condescending rebuttal. "I never gave you information because you did not ask for it."

Harry's green eyes widened comically behind his glasses. Yes, it really was that simple. "I didn't realize that I was allowed to seek you out, sir," the boy replied. His tone was so innocently confused that Severus had to sit down. His migraine was returning with a vengeance, and he absently rubbed his temples.

That simple admission, more than any amount of observation on Severus's part, clarified the past three years. It was a succinct summary, in a way. Harry didn't ask because he didn't think he was allowed or welcome. Severus didn't offer because he didn't want to waste advice on an unwilling audience. A vicious cycle, though in truth it was just one of the many that made up his life.

"Potter," Severus began, then stopped. Dropping his hands from his throbbing head, the potion master looked over at his young companion. The boy looked up at him with his head cocked to the side, emerald eyes open but wary. Willing to listen, but not yet to trust. Severus was struck by just how proud the boy had the potential to make him. "Harry. Let us make a pact, you and I."

"A pact?" Harry repeated cautiously, slowly. "What sort of pact?"

"I will tell you everything that is within my power. You must come to me with everything dangerous or idiotic that you intend to engage in. There are those in this world who want to see you dead. I am not one of them, and as Dumbledore is nearly as proactive as the Emperor Nero, I seem to be your only hope. But you are going to have to trust me," Severus warned. Perhaps it was just his year to be overly dramatic.

"So, Obi Wan Kenobi, are you my only hope?" Potter drawled sarcastically. Cheeky brat.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?" Severus replied with a ghost of a grin. Potter nearly fell off the bed in shock. "Is that an assent, Potter?"

"I don't like it when people keep important things from me, professor," Potter explained as he absently fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "So I guess we have an agreement. If you're sure that you can stand to have me around, of course."

"I shall suffer in silence, I suppose," Severus agreed dryly as he held out his hand. Potter looked at it for a moment as though weighing his options. The boy didn't like being entangled with anyone or anything restricting, and Severus respected that almost as much as he was desperate to keep the boy safe. Potter finally reached out his hand, small in comparison and much less stained, and the accord was sealed.

The two sat in silence for a moment. Presumably, Potter was contemplating this new and highly unusual alliance with his most hated teacher. It must have seemed like a terrible restriction, but obviously it was a price he was willing to pay for the answers he needed. Severus was elated. Finally, the boy would be where he was safest: in Snape's purview.

"All right, Potter," Severus said as he stood. His back creaked and popped like an old man's; age beyond his years was yet another price he paid for this extraordinary yet infuriating boy. "I shall leave you to visiting your companion. You have an owl, and I trust you know how to use her. Send me a missive should anything arise." Turning on his heel, Severus strode out of the infirmary.

"Sir!" Harry called just as he made to open the doors.

Without turning, Snape asked, "What now, Potter?"

"May the force be with you, professor," the brat informed him. Severus could almost see the ridiculous grin on the boy's face. Chuckling, Severus continued on his way to the dungeons. Perhaps they would both make it out alive, in the end.


End file.
